


Escape Velocity

by SomethingWitty



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingWitty/pseuds/SomethingWitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Escape Velocity, defined as the velocity an object must reach in order to escape the gravitational pull exerted by another object. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After moving into a new apartment Leonard McCoy discovers a few things about his neighbor Jim Kirk, and somewhere along the line he falls in love with the guy. Too bad that Jim can't seem to escape the gravitational pull of his uncaring and abusive boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape Velocity

Leonard McCoy refused to acknowledge how winded he was as he maneuvered his hip to nudge open the heavy paneled door leading to his new apartment. His hands were busy holding two stacked boxes that felt like they weighed 80 pounds combined and his thighs burned in protest from the climb up three flights of stairs. It would figure, move-in day and the elevators were down, naturally. McCoy huffed and dropped the boxes onto the generic IKEA kitchen table. That was the last of the boxes from the moving truck, but now came the unpacking phase. He sighed as he looked around his new apartment with bare walls and boxes stacked randomly on top of one another. He felt helpless for a moment, unable to decide where to even start sorting.

He'd recently moved up the hospital food chain from Intern to second-year resident at UC-San Diego Medical Center and with that had come a marginal salary increase. Yes, marginal, but it was enough to get him out of the shithole apartment he'd had for his intern year and into the Hillcrest area. Even better, this new place was only about a ten minute drive to the hospital, which would be a huge bonus considering all the on-call McCoy was taking. He shuffled off his boots and went to the kitchen table, deciding to start with the boxes containing his medical reference books.

The apartment was quiet around him, noiseless save for the faint sounds of traffic outside the windows. His attention was momentarily caught by a door opening and closing outside in the hall. The blissful silence was otherwise undisturbed as McCoy busied himself alphabetizing the books on the shelves flanking a decorative nook. He gingerly took a miniature anatomical skeleton from the box; it had been a gift from his Grandpa Turner when he'd graduated med school. He held the fragile thing in both hands and took him time adjusting it, had placed the skeleton exactly where he wanted it when he was suddenly jolted by the sound of pop music at a truly heinous decibel level. His hand jerked in surprise, knocking the small skeleton back but not over. Irritated, he spun around on his toe towards the wall where the sound was coming from, as if his glare could burn through the plaster and fry the obnoxious tenant next door.

Was that...singing...too? Not bad singing, thankfully, but still.

He waited a few minutes, to at least give the tenant the chance to turn the music down and not shatter their own ear drums, but the cacophony continued on. The frying pan on his stove top was vibrating, for fuck's sake.

McCoy stormed over the wall and banged mightily on the plaster, "Turn the music down, asshole! It's 10pm!"

There was no verbal answer back at him, but the music turned down to a semi-decent level. He could still distinctly hear Bruno Mars, but at least his kitchenware wasn't vibrating in place. He'd take his victories where he could get them. Satisfied enough, he turned back to the bookshelf and the boxes on top of boxes.

The next morning found him in the UC-San Diego Medical Center, walking alongside his Attending physician, Dr. Nero Romul. A ridiculous name for an equally pompous man, McCoy thought to himself. The guy was only about four years older than McCoy, but as the Attending physician, Nero Romul's word was law in McCoy's universe.  

"So, Dr. McCoy, first day of second year," Nero said harmlessly, but McCoy knew by now not to take the bait.

"Yes, sir." McCoy kept his eyes ahead and kept walking.

"You know, second year is when the heat really gets put on. More on-call time than first year, more responsibility. I'd hate for you to crack under the pressure. We all have our coping mechanisms, you know. Ah, _of course_ you'd know," Nero said offhandedly, smirking to himself.

McCoy's mouth drew tight into a frown and he fought with his tongue not to give in to the veiled prodding. Yes, once upon a time McCoy did have less-than-stellar coping mechanisms, and yes, those coping mechanisms were found at the bottom of a bottle. And yes, he'd made the fucking terrible mistake of disclosing that information to Dr. Romul in the very misguided belief that he could trust the man as a mentor. But the facts were that McCoy hadn't touched a drop of the stuff in over 10 months and he had no intention of returning to it. Nero, though, didn't forget and seemed to take a particular joy in anticipating McCoy's inevitable future backslide into the nearest bottle of Maker's Mark.

McCoy groused back, "I'm not here to talk about coping mechanisms. I'm here to talk about Patients, so let's talk. Do you want me to round on 4-West first or 2-East?"

Nero, fuck him very much, seemed to pout when McCoy didn't take the bait. "Oh yes, I suppose. I'm going to the dictation room to review ECGs, call me when you're done on 4-West and we'll go over whatever's interesting."

McCoy took a sharp right towards the stairwell, heading up to the surgical step-down unit. On his way he pulled out his phone, sending a message to the El Cajon Urgent Care Center confirming that he'd be covering the night shift. It was one of the hospital's poorly hidden secrets, that many of the residents moonlighted at local clinics to supplement their paychecks. Technically it was frowned upon or even prohibited by most teaching hospitals, but if they were only going to pay their residents a barely livable salary then what did they really expect.

Finally reaching the computer station on the 4th floor, McCoy tried to shake off the negative energy from Dr. Romul and attempted to put on a vaguely less grumpy expression. He only became sincerely less grumpy when Nurse Chapel, the best fucking nurse in UC-SDMC thank you very much, surprised him with a piping hot cup of coffee. Across the station he could see Dr. Uhura and Dr. Spock, two of the more competent physicians he knew, going through their respective paperwork. McCoy nodded his thanks to Chapel, squared his shoulders, and prepared himself to start the day.

* * *

 

Sixteen hours later it was nearing midnight and McCoy found himself on the spacious, flat roof of the apartment building smoking a cigarette. So, okay, he had traded in the bottle for tobacco. He never said he was perfect. Also, he only smoked on long-ass days like the one he'd had that day.

He leaned against the brick wall outlining the rooftop and watched the tip of the cigarette burn into ash and flake off the end, lazily exhaling smoke into the night. He wasn't sure how long he was transfixed, but he was distracted enough not to notice the door open behind him.

"Those'll kill you, you do know that, right?" A young man's voice said.

McCoy sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned around and inhaled deeply from the cigarette, making sure this newcomer saw him breathe every deadly chemical from that tar stick. 

"Kid, I'm a doctor. I could write you a book on the dangers of smoking. Don't pander to me."

The other man, younger than himself, just smirked and held both hands up in surrender, "Hey man, I'm just watching out for you."

"Nagging me." McCoy corrected, taking a final puff and stamping out the cigarette butt on a lone ashtray left by some other nicotine-dependent soul.

"Eh, to _mayt_ o, to _mah_ to. You seem stressed. Are you one of those stress smokers?" The guy came up to join McCoy, leaning on his elbows against the brick wall, overlooking San Diego.

McCoy glared over at the uninvited guest, "Are you one of those annoying holistic nuts who wants to give every poor unsuspecting schmuck the Dr. Phil treatment?"

The guy just looked at him expectantly with raised eyebrows.

McCoy ran a hand through his hair and growled, "Fine. But only because I'm obviously sleep deprived, that's the only reason you've won this one. I'm stressed because I just moved here, I'm a medical resident and my boss is basically a sociopath, and yesterday my neighbor decided to have a damn dance party near midnight. Who knows what kind of teenaged punk I'm living next to?"

The guy suddenly got shifty. "Oh. Well, uh, welcome to the complex. Did you move into 3C?"

McCoy blinked in surprise, "Yeah, how did you know?"

"Jim Kirk, your neighbor in 3B." The stranger, Jim, grinned as he stuck his hand out for an enthusiastic shake. "I'm no teenager and I'm only like 10% punk."

McCoy obliged, taking the warm hand.

Jim continued, "Sorry about the music last night, I didn't know someone had moved in."

McCoy shrugged awkwardly, "Just...keep it down from now on." He blinked to himself and then grimaced, "that's the most geriatric thing I've ever said."

Jim laughed quietly. Not a bad sound, McCoy thought.

"Well, old man, I promise to keep it down so that you can get some sleep. I'd hate for you to work yourself into a fuss and break a hip."

McCoy growled, "I'll show you a fuss, you little asshole."

Jim continued to chuckle as he backed away from McCoy and towards the rooftop door, "Joking! Joking! Goodnight, 3C. Nice to meet you, sorry for the impromptu rave last night. Get some sleep, and no more cancer sticks!"

"Kid, I tuned you out like three minutes ago, now get going." He lit up another cigarette in front of Jim, just because he could.

* * *

 Leonard McCoy took his coffee very seriously. That meant heavy duty recon,  scouting out the best coffee shops and cafes in the new neighborhood. All of the internet reviews and coworker opinions seemed to point to a small cafe called Gaila's off the corner of Front Street and University Avenue.

Pushing his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head, he pushed open the front door which had a jingling bell attached to it. A beautiful young woman with fiery red hair looked up from the counter as he approached, a welcoming smile blooming on her face.

"Hey Stranger, welcome to the cafe, I'm Gaila. Take a seat anywhere and we'll be with you in a second."

McCoy chose a booth with windows facing the street, opening up his bag to retrieve his laptop. Efficiently setting up a makeshift work station, he barely noticed the time pass before the same red-haired woman, Gaila, walked over to his table, her thumb clicking the pen in her hand rhythmically and her mouth full of chewing gum.

"Take a second to the look at the menu. What can I start you off with to drink, sweet cheeks?"

McCoy did a double-take at the woman. Sweet cheeks, _really?_

"I'll go with a coffee, no cream, thanks. And I think I'll go with the Reuben sandwich."

Gaila blew a large bubble and popped it, nodding as she took the menu back from McCoy. "Comin' right up, Tall Dark and Handsome."

McCoy shook his head in bewilderment before turning his attention back to the work in front of him. At some point a coffee and Reuben sandwich appeared next to his laptop without him noticing, and he ate absentmindedly as he continued to jot down notes with one hand and clutch the white ceramic coffee mug with his other hand.

"Bones."

_What?_

He pulled the laptop screen down to reveal the person sitting opposite from him in the booth, groaning as he recognized the man from several nights prior on the apartment rooftop.  

"Bones." The kid, Jim, said again with a smile.

"What the Hell? Have you developed a speech issue? If so, go to the ER and don't bother me with it." McCoy groused, attempting to return to the notes he was putting together on Pickwickian syndrome.

"Your laptop skin. It's a skeleton with the names of all the bones." Jim said matter-of-factly, pointing at McCoy’s computer.

"I know this," McCoy spoke slowly, as if he was talking to someone particularly stupid, "But congratulations on knowing a big word like 'bones,' A+ for you."

Jim smirked. McCoy was really, really trying not to be distracted by how blue his eyes were in the daylight. Or the stubble. Or the obvious lines of his biceps and deltoids underneath that stupidly thin t-shirt. Dammit.

"See, here’s the thing. You know my name," Jim continued. "So I find myself at a disadvantage because you never introduced yourself to me. So what am I supposed to do, oh strange man with no name? I christen thee, Bones. It's either that or 'Cancer Stick'."

McCoy leveled his best glare at the younger man. "You're not going to call me Bones and you're sure as fuck not going to call me Cancer Stick. The name's McCoy. Leonard McCoy."

Jim grinned at him, seeming almost genuine, "And there's the name! So, that wasn't so hard, right?"

"I've had more fun getting root canals. And what are you doing here, anyway? You're not some kind of stalker are you, because as we've established, my life is stressful enough without adding any 'Dateline 20/20' bullshit to it."

Jim outright laughed, and it was just as good a noise during the day as it had been on the rooftop at night. "Cool your jets, I work here. I was on lunch break when you came in, but technically you're at my table. So, how was the Reuben?"

McCoy groaned as he closed his laptop, knowing that the working portion of his working-lunch was over.

* * *

 Two weeks later, McCoy was settling in nicely to the new apartment. He was unpacked, his new mattress had arrived, and his neighbor in 3B had been quiet. Even Dr. Romul had been tolerable, which meant McCoy basically wanted to frolic through a fucking field of daisies. The heat of the San Diego sun lingered in his apartment long after sunset, the air conditioner humming along and doing its best. He wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his brow and decided to seek out some fresh air.

The elevator still wasn’t fixed, so by the time McCoy opened up the door to the rooftop, he was again covered in a layer of salty sweat. However, he wasn’t disappointed by the breeze. He leaned against the waist-high wall surrounding the roof, closing his eyes and letting the cool wind hit his face. He tilted his head up and opened his eyes to find a surprisingly clear night given the ambient light from the spread of civilization below. He could even see some of the stars.

“Ursa minor.”

McCoy jumped as he turned around to follow the voice, though he already knew who had spoken. So much for being alone.

About eight or nine feet away sat Jim Kirk with a small telescope on a tripod, looking at him and smirking, as he perpetually seemed to do.

“You’re looking to the North. You can see Ursa minor.” Jim explained.

“Huh,” McCoy mused. “Never was much into astronomy. Seemed kind of stale.”

Jim appeared borderline-offended, “Bones! You wound me. Now, anatomy – that is stale. Astronomy is…is like studying the past but also the future at the same time. Do you even realize that when you’re staring at a star you’re actually looking back in time, millions of years ago? Doesn’t that just make you trip out?”

McCoy shrugged, but he did see Jim’s point. “I just never really thought about it.”

Jim got up from the small stool he was perched on and walked over to McCoy, pulling him by the arm towards the telescope. “Well, think about this. Look over there, directly west. See those stars that make a big box shape – that’s Regulus and there’s Denebola across from it, and how there’s a tail coming off of them?”

“Ok, I guess.”

“That’s called Leo. That’s your constellation. How is that not cool?!”

McCoy found himself taken aback not only by Jim’s enthusiasm but also his knowledge. “You can really name the constellations? And their stars?”

Jim made a ‘ _pfft_ ’ noise and rolled his eyes, “That’s child’s play, Bones. But yeah, I guess you could say astronomy is my hobby. The astrophysics part of it is a little hard to learn on your own, but I’m making progress, I think.”

McCoy looked at him curiously, “Why on your own? There have to be astronomy classes at UC, or any of the dozen colleges in this area. You’re obviously smart, despite your inability to listen to people when they say ‘don’t call me that ridiculous nickname.’”

Jim looked down and to the right, jaw working as if he was considering the answer, and it was the closest thing to insecurity that McCoy had yet to see on Jim’s face.

He decided he didn’t like that expression.

He opened to mouth to apologize for obviously overstepping his bounds, but Jim side-tracked the conversation by turning his attention back to the telescope, “Take a look here, the moon is really bright tonight.”

It turned out that ineffective air conditioning was the perfect excuse to continue to come to the rooftop every few nights, and if Jim just happened to be up there stargazing most evenings, and if he just happened to enthusiastically hold on to McCoy’s arm as he described the constellations, asteroids, and comets, well, then McCoy was perfectly happy to chalk it up to fortunate coincidence.

* * *

McCoy settled into a semi-pleasant routine. Well, about as pleasant as he could let himself be. The hospital hours were insane, but he found that he functioned quite well on five hours of sleep a night. He’d gotten to know some of the other tenants in the building, like the crazed Scotsman in 3A that Jim hung around with or the man named Sulu who lived in 3G and had a truly uncomfortable number of cats.

He kept finding himself drawn back to the younger blonde. He’d be outright lying to himself if he said there wasn’t physical attraction, and there _was_ something between them, something without a name. But Jim had a mysterious partner, he knew that. McCoy had never met the guy, even after several weeks of living there. He’d hear muffled voices occasionally from next door, definitely two men, but he’d yet to get a name or see a face.

True to his word, Jim’s music stayed at reasonable levels. McCoy could still hear Jim singing along though, but he strangely found that he didn’t mind it. Even if there was a thick wall of plaster between them, something warm and comfortable settled in his stomach at the thought of Jim being just next door. It should’ve troubled McCoy that he was getting so attached to a man he barely knew anything about.

Should’ve – but didn’t.

One evening, nearly two months after moving in, he started getting his answers.

He had just rushed through the door after finishing up his shift at the hospital, quickly stripping off his soiled scrubs into the hamper. After trading them for fresh ones from his dresser he hurried to the kitchen to try to piece together some kind of nutritious meal before he headed to his evening Clinic job. Jim’s music was louder, he noted, and he could definitely hear voices.

His brow furrowed as the pitch of the voices increased, obviously caught in some kind of argument. Heavy footsteps crossed the floor and the music was suddenly blasting through the wall. He could just barely make out the yelling underneath the heavy guitar and drums. A part of him wanted to wait, to say screw the Clinic shift and make sure the fight settled down. The other part of him knew full well the importance of his Clinic job for keeping a roof over his head, and so with some hesitancy he grabbed his chicken wrap and car keys and rushed out the door.

* * *

 

Another night, another shift moonlighting at the El Cajon Urgent Care Center.

It was the usual fare for the evening shift on a Tuesday, lots of kids with URIs, generic abdominal complaints, minor occupational injuries, et cetera. It was nearing the end of his shift when the Nurse brought him a chart for a twenty-three year old male with a head laceration. McCoy stopped short of the exam room door when he noticed the name on the chart. With a silent nod to the nurse he headed in.  

Jim Kirk’s face had certainly seen better days. The head laceration was located above his left eyebrow and was obviously a few hours old but still sluggishly bleeding, causing Jim to have to keep continual pressure over the wound. A nicely-developing black eye accompanied the laceration. Jim looked up at him with about as much shock as McCoy was sure was painted on his own face.

“Um, hey, Bones. Fancy seeing you here.” Jim said, weakly waving an arm at him.

McCoy reached out and gently caught the appendage, feeling like someone had punched him in the gut as he took in the obvious finger-shaped ecchymosis extending around Jim’s right wrist.

McCoy had known immediately, with one look at Jim and having heard the ruckus from earlier that night, of course he’d put 2-and-2 together. But to actually see that son of a bitch’s fingerprints on the man in front of him made McCoy feel like someone had poured ice water down his back.

Jim tugged his arm out of McCoy’s hands and said matter-of-factly, “My arm’s fine. It’s this cut on my forehead, it won’t stop bleeding.” He lifted off the semi-soaked gauze to show that, indeed, the skin above his eyebrow was still oozing blood.

McCoy took a deep breath and turned to the nurse to request a suture kit. Once the young woman had left the room, McCoy turned back to Jim.

“Who did this, Kid? I heard some banging around earlier in your apartment but I didn’t think about it, I just – shit, I’m so sorry, Jim.” He ran a hand through his own hair. “I should’ve checked on you. But you’ve gotta give me a name. I’ll file the report and handle everything, just give me a name.”

Jim looked at him like he’d grown a third eye. “I got into a bar fight, Bones. Pure and simple. Bumped into the wrong guy at the Shamrock Pub and learned my lesson, obviously.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jim. You seriously insult my intelligence when you do so, and you should know by now that I hate it when people insult my intelligence. Even if it _was_ just a bar fight, which I don’t believe for a damn second, let me get the paperwork to file a police report.”

Jim sighed, “I told you it’s nothing. I’m not filing any report about anything. I’m here for some stitches, Doctor, that’s all I want.”

The nurse came back into the room carrying the suture tray and clean gauze.

McCoy felt helpless. “Jim…”

Jim looked him evenly in the eye and said firmly, “Sutures.”

Twenty minutes later the clinic was set to close and the staff was packing up for the night. Three dissolvable sutures and two ice packs later, Jim was gathering his things and heading out the door.

McCoy stopped him, hand reaching for his shoulder. “Kid, let me drive you home.”

Jim opened his mouth like he was going to say something undoubtedly foolish about taking the bus at midnight, but he must’ve seen something in McCoy’s expression that quelled the argument before it began. “Ok, Bones. Sounds good.”

As they drove down 7th Street in McCoy’s Taurus, the loud ringing of Jim’s cell phone startled the both of them. Jim took one look at the caller ID and answered quickly, casting a cautious glance sideways at McCoy.

Jim’s one-sided conversation was punctuated and awkward in the small space of the car. “Hey. Yeah I just got out of the Urgent Care. Three stitches. Yeah. I’m gonna take the bus. Yeah, it’s ok. We’ll talk about it later. Love you, Nero. Bye.”

Both of their seat belts locked up in protest as McCoy slammed on the breaks involuntarily.

Jim looked over at him like a deer in the headlights, “You okay there, Bones?”

McCoy reached over to Jim’s shoulder and grabbed a handful of his jacket, “Nero. You said Nero.”

“Yeah…is this going somewhere?”

“What is Nero’s last name?”

Jim looked around the street warily, “Bones, you do realize you just screeched to a halt in the middle of the road, right? Like, you should probably accelerate before a car-jacking takes place.”

McCoy shook himself and let go of Jim’s jacket, nodding as he gently accelerated. He glanced back over to Jim, asking again, “What is Nero’s last name?”

“Romul. He’s a Doctor at the UC Medical Center.” Jim quirked an eyebrow, but then his eyes grew comically wide as he realized, “You two know each other?!”

McCoy cursed. “Know each other? Sure. Jim, he’s my Attending. He’s basically my boss. He’s also a good for nothing sack of shit.” Normally, someone would apologize after describing someone else’s boyfriend in such terms, but McCoy wasn’t normal and he’d just discovered another reason, if not the best reason, to hate Nero.

It didn’t go unnoticed that Jim made no attempt to defend him either.

“Bar fight, Bones. I got into a bar fight.” Jim said with finality, turning to look out the passenger window at the city streetlights whirring by.

McCoy’s hands clenched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t make any further comment.

* * *

 

“So, I had an interesting night.” McCoy said as he saw Dr. Romul walk into the physician’s lounge the next morning.

Nero smirked unpleasantly at him, “Dr. McCoy, I don't want to hear about your swinger parties or however you get your rocks off in your spare time.”

McCoy’s lips drew thin. “I’m not joking here. See, I moved into a new apartment complex a few months ago, a place called Hillcrest Terrace.”

Nero froze, all the humor disappearing from his eyes.

McCoy nodded, hoping his eyes were as red hot as his anger was, “Yep. Figured you’d be familiar with it, seeing as your boyfriend lives there. And let me tell you, the walls of that place are thin, Nero, real fucking thin. So next time you decide to get physical with him, just remember that I can hear every damn thing and I will not hesitate to call the cops and be sure they arrest your abusive ass.”

 Nero had the good sense to look intimidated for about two seconds, but quickly the cocky, apathetic mask was pulled back on.

“I think you need to remember who you’re talking to, Dr. McCoy.” Nero said, voice like ice and circling around McCoy like a lion going for the kill. “You are the resident. I’m your attending and I can make your life a living Hell. If I so choose, I can have you kicked out of this program. I already have good reason, I mean with your history of alcoholism and all. In fact, I’ve had my suspicions that you’ve been drinking on the job again.”

McCoy turned furiously to Nero, “You know that’s bullshit. Pure, utter shit.”  

Nero grinned fiercely, “Ah, but see you do have a history of alcohol abuse, Leonard. And in the end it’s my word against yours. Who do you think the Hospital Medical Board will believe, when push comes to shove?”

McCoy squared his shoulders, using all of his height to stand against the other man. “Well, what if I told you I don’t give a shit? That at least I can sleep with a clean conscience knowing I did everything I could to help Jim get out from under your hand.”

And he would do it, too. Any Hospital that would believe a scumbag like Nero over McCoy was not a place that McCoy wanted to be associated with anyway.

Nero grinned. “That’s the thing. Jim won’t say a word. Go ahead, call the cops. Tell them everything – Jim will deny all of it.” He said it with such confidence that McCoy found himself shaken and doubtful.

“Why are you so certain that Jim would cover for you?”

Nero got into McCoy’s face, so close that he could smell his hot, stinking breath. “Because Jim knows who he belongs to.”

Shoving past McCoy’s shoulder and walking across the lounge to the door, Nero turned sharply on his heel to address McCoy again, “I believe we have an understanding, Leonard? You really do such great work for this Hospital, and I’d hate for you to throw that away chasing something that will only lead to a dead end. Stay away from what's mine.”

With that, Nero strode out the door.

The harsh shattering of a coffee mug against the wall startled McCoy, even moreso when he realized he had thrown it himself.

* * *

 

McCoy trudged into Gaila’s Cafe, feet feeling like they were weighted down with cement. The café interior was nearly deserted. The clock behind the dining counter showed that it was already past midnight.

One of the night shifters, a young woman named Janice, perked up as he entered.

“Well, well, Doctor Bones. What brings you to my little corner of the world?”

McCoy grimaced. Jim’s atrocious nickname had spread like wildfire, although McCoy strongly suspected that everyone other than Jim called him by it just for the sake of being obnoxious.

“Good eve’nin, Janice. Just got off a night shift at the hospital. I want some dinner, I want some coffee, and then I want to sleep for fourteen hours,” He said as he slowly walked over to what had become his regular booth.

The corner of Janice’s mouth pulled up in a wry smile and she handed him a menu, “Well, we can help you with two out of three of those things. No sleeping in my cafe, though.”

McCoy nodded his thanks and took the menu, idly watching out of the corner of his eye to see if Jim was working that night. If he listened closely, he could hear the familiar timbre of Jim’s voice singing to the radio in the back kitchen.

Janice seemed to pick up on his distraction and the grin on her face turned positively predatory, like someone who’d gotten a very juicy piece of gossip. “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that our very own American Idol is working in the kitchen tonight. Should I send him out to you?”

McCoy twitched nervously, shaking his head. “Only if he wants to. And only if he’s done with his work, I don’t want to keep him here later than he needs to be.”

For the first time since he’d known her, McCoy saw Janice’s trademark grin turn into something softer. “You’re an alright guy, Len McCoy. I’ll send Jim out. His shift’s nearly over anyway. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the only customer.”

Janice left him with a menu and strolled back into the kitchen yelling, “Kirk! Visitor up front!”

A few moments later the younger man emerged from behind the swinging doors wearing his white apron. McCoy saw a dozen different emotions flash across Jim’s face when he saw who was waiting for him in the booth – happiness, shock, embarrassment, and apprehension, to name a few. McCoy nodded his head to the seat across from him and Jim settled in.

The bruises on the blonde’s face had healed nicely in the several days since they’d last seen each other. McCoy slowly reached out a hand to palpate the cut over Jim’s left eye, pleased to find that it, too, was healing well.

“Kid, I want to talk you.”

Jim sighed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “Do we have to do this now?”

McCoy pursed his lips, “I’m not going to say that you _have_ to do anything. You’re an adult and you make your own choices – I’m just trying to understand those choices, Jim. You tell me whatever you want to tell me. Hell, if you only want to sit here and talk about Netflix, I’d be ok with that. Just…talk to me.”

Jim took a big breath and nodded, calling over to Janice for a large pot of coffee and two cups.

“Okay,” Jim started. “So you already know Nero, apparently. Yeah, he’s my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for about five years.”

McCoy’s eyes must have bugged out of his head, because Jim let out a quiet laugh, “I know! I know! But seriously, five years. We met when I was 18. I was working here, actually. I’d just started my freshmen year at UC-San Diego. He was a resident at the hospital, like you. He would come here before shifts, get a coffee and breakfast to go. He was hot, you know? I mean, the strong, silent, older man type with a stable job. He was like catnip for me. He knew it, too. We started dating and the rest is history.”

McCoy shook his head. “There’s more to it than that, kid.”

Jim chewed on his bottom lip, but conceded with a nod, “Yeah. There’s a lot more to it.” Jim looked behind himself and around the diner, confirming that it was only the two of them and Janice. He took sip of coffee and continued, “Things were really great at first. Seriously. He was…good to me. You gotta understand that he was like some kind of Prince in a fairy tale. I mean, I was only 18 and had come straight from Nowhere, Iowa. He lived this lifestyle that was so foreign to me – took me to clubs and shows.” Jim hesitated, “No one had ever really showed that kind of interest in me before, so I just accepted the good with the bad.”

McCoy nudged his coffee mug against Jim’s and softly asked, “What kind of bad?”

Jim cleared his throat, “Well, right now we've got separate places since he doesn't think it'd go over well at the hospital if his colleagues knew about...me. But, uh, at first we were living together, it helped cut down on the bills, right? But money was just always so tight, I mean, you know better than most people that it’s so fucking difficult to live on a medical resident’s paycheck. And my tuition was too expensive to keep going, so Nero and I decided that I would take a break from school while he was in residency, so I could work here full time and help keep us afloat.”

McCoy’s nostrils flared in anger. Of course Nero would do that. “And what about now, Jim? He’s an attending. I can promise you there’s no reason you two couldn’t afford tuition now.”

Jim looked down into his coffee and shrugged. There it was again, that screaming insecurity that made McCoy want to smack Nero in the face with a chair.

“I gave the college thing a shot, Bones. But that was five years ago and I don’t know if I even remember how to be a student. I’m twenty-three, that’s ancient compared to most of these college kids. I can just teach myself anything I’d want to know anyways.”

McCoy sighed, “I think that’s all bullshit that Nero’s been feeding you for years. I know you can do it, Jim. You’re one of the smartest people I know. But if you ever want to do anything more with astronomy at a professional level other than sit on a rooftop and stargaze, you’ll have to go to college. That’s just how it works.”

Jim’s head suddenly snapped up, eyes ablaze. “What are you, Bones? My fucking guidance counselor? Why can’t I live out the rest of my life cooking grilled cheese sandwiches? You don’t think this counts as work? I come home and I am fucking tired, because I spent the last ten hours on my feet juggling a hundred different demands at one time. And you don’t think that’s work? Of course not, you _big hotshot_ Doctor.”

“Dammit, Jim!” McCoy yelled, startling the man across the booth out of his rant, “You know full well that’s not what I mean, so don’t try to play dumb. You’re a lot of things, kid, but dumb ain’t one of them. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you’ll be happy working here til you’re eighty.”

Jim sunk back down into the booth. His silence was answer enough.

McCoy ran a hand down his face. “You’ve asked him before, haven’t you? If you could go back to school?”

Jim nodded glumly. “He gave me a line about how he didn’t want me getting stressed out. See, I don’t make enough from working here to pay for school, Bones. I don’t make enough to afford the apartment I live in – Nero pays for the rest of what my paycheck doesn’t cover, which is a lot, by the way. And I can’t afford any decent rental in this city without his help. With no money, I can’t go back to school, and without a degree I can’t make any money to get out of there. I need him. I’m…stuck. He’s got me stuck.”

McCoy huffed out a breath, gently peeling Jim’s fingers from the coffee mug he was unconsciously clutching. “I still think you should report him, Jim. It was assault, simple and plain.”

Jim quirked an eyebrow at him, shaking his head. “I can’t. One,” He said, ticking off a finger, “anytime he’s ever hit me, I’ve hit him right back. It’s pretty hard to convince the Cops that I’m the helpless victim when he’s sporting bruises, too. I’m not some kind of…abused housewife, Bones.” 

But you _are_ , McCoy thinks to himself. “Jim, you know as well as I do that guys can get into bad situations, same as any woman can. Hell, sometimes the woman is the one abusing the man. Don’t convince yourself that just because you’re both men that it means he’s allowed to treat you like shit. Because that’s what’s happening. I’m also guessing that even though you always fight back, you’ve probably never been the one to actually start the physical stuff.”

Jim’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he shook his head and rerouted the conversation. “Two, This is your boss, Bones. If you mess with him, he will fuck you over so fast it’ll make your head spin. I’m not gonna let that happen to you. We’ll both just stay on his good side. Eventually he won’t be your boss anymore and I can save up more money, try to find a place that I can actually afford so that I don’t need him.”

McCoy’s foot lightly nudged Jim’s shin under the table, “And then go back to school, you think? We’ll find a way.”

Jim was still for a moment, but eventually gave him his first real smile of the night and agreed, “And then back to school.”

They moved on to lighter topics, McCoy telling Jim about all of the ridiculous things his coworkers did at the hospital and Jim telling McCoy about the lighter points of his misspent youth (“So there I was, after releasing all of the mice from the science lab during the school assembly…”).

Soon, the coffee had gone cold and Janice was glaring at the both of them, irritably tapping her acrylic fingernails against the countertop.

“You two lovebirds need to vacate the premises. For pete’s sake, we open back up for breakfast in four hours,” She told them sternly as she went back to aggressively cleaning and re-cleaning the countertops, glaring at them all the while.

McCoy turned to the clock and was surprised to find that it was nearing two in the morning. He shared a look with Jim, who didn’t appear to be the least bit tired after drinking an entire pot of coffee with the other man.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Janice,” Jim mocked as he gathered up their belongings. “We’re gonna go take a stroll in Balboa Park.”

Janice’s middle finger saw them out of the building.

And so, thirty minutes later, McCoy found himself standing in front of the Alcazar fountain in Balboa Park in the middle of the night with Jim Kirk next to him searching for loose change.

“You have to make a wish, Bones,” Jim said in a ‘duh’ tone of voice.

McCoy sighed and took the quarter from Jim’s palm, feeling the warmth of the coin.

Jim moved to stand should-to-shoulder with him, nudging McCoy lightly with his elbow. “On the count of three, make a wish and toss it in – but don’t say it out loud!”

McCoy groaned exaggeratedly, “I could be sleeping right now. Sleeping, Jim. It’s a beautiful, natural thing.”

Jim shushed him with a finger, “One…two…three!”

Both men tossed their coins in the fountain.

* * *

A loud knocking woke McCoy up from his state of blissful unconsciousness. He blinked to clear the gunk out of his eyes, wondering why he had awoken in his living room before realizing he’d fallen asleep face-first into one of his textbooks on the couch the night before.

“Bones!” Jim’s muffled voice filtered through the front door, accompanied by more knocking.

No matter how bad McCoy had it for Jim (an uncomfortable fact that he was beginning to realize and make peace with), there was absolutely no way that McCoy could be expected to be anything less than a grumpy sonuva’ bitch when his door was knocked on at eight in the morning on a Saturday.

He groaned as he pushed himself off the soft couch and shuffled blearily to the front door. He looked sideways at the mirror on the wall and noticed harsh parallel lines on is face from the imprints of the textbook.

“Jim, you better be knocking on my door at dawn for a damn good reason.” McCoy growled as he opened the door and leaned against the frame, giving Jim a long up and down look.

He’d gotten into the habit of giving the other man quick visual once-overs. He told himself that it was because he was checking for any sign of injury or damage inflicted by Jim’s sack of shit boyfriend – and that was mostly true – but he also certainly enjoyed the view in general.

Jim rolled his eyes and griped, “It’s eight in the morning, Old man. Dawn was like two hours ago. Anyway, I come bearing gifts.”

Jim then proceeded to dangle a paper bag directly in front of McCoy’s face, cackling when the older man angrily snatched it out of Jim’s hand and read the name on the bag. “Is this really from the Cravory?”

“Yep, couldn’t decide between the lemon bars or the ultimate chocolate chip cookies, so I just got you both. Also,” Jim said, waggling his eyebrows and holding up a travel crate with two coffee cups, “I got us some morning refreshment.”

McCoy’s spirits brightened considerably as he pulled out a lemon bar from the bag and took a paper coffee cup. “Oh you beautiful son of a bitch, I could kiss you right now.” He looked up just in time to see a blush cross Jim’s face and he felt a nervous chuckle come on.

Jim saved them from any awkwardness, however, by asking, “So, are you about ready to go?”

McCoy shot him a questioning look.

“Uh, the Air and Space Museum? You said last week that you’d go with me today since you’ve got this week off…” Jim said hesitantly, shifting from foot to foot and arms slowly lowering the coffee crate dejectedly as he realized McCoy didn't remember.

 _So_ , McCoy thought, _this is what kicking a puppy feels like_.

“Yeah, I remember now." He said hurriedly. "Let me just get out of my pajamas and we’ll head over there.”

Jim frowned and started to turn toward the door. “You don’t have to, man. It’s obvious that you’re tired and you had a late night. I should just let you get some sleep.”

“Jim –"

“Hey, don’t worry about. We’ll go some other time. Museum’s always going to be there, no worr–”

“ _JIM_.”

The younger man looked up in surprise, shaken out of his rambling.

McCoy assured, “We’re going. I’m sorry that I forgot, but we’re going. I want to.”

In reality, McCoy only wanted to go to the museum for Jim’s sake. The thought of flying in an airplane, or even worse a space shuttle, made him want to vomit up his lemon bar. Leonard McCoy would keep his feet flat on the ground, thank you very much. But Jim…Jim was just too damn smart to let his intelligence go to waste. If McCoy could take him to the museum today, maybe he could trigger a switch in Jim, start some kind of fire that the kid needed so he could begin to pull himself out of Nero’s black hole.

McCoy had been thinking about their conversation in the diner heavily. Trying to find solutions, trying to find answers. It seemed simple. If Jim couldn’t afford the apartment on his own, McCoy would offer to share his. If Jim was worried about the cost of tuition, McCoy would gladly help him apply for scholarships or even look at cheaper colleges. And he’d already told Jim repeatedly that he didn’t care what Nero would do to his hospital career.

But McCoy had worked with victims of abuse before, and he knew that no matter how many viable solutions were put in front of the person, they had to feel confident in those solutions before they’d take them. They had to feel it was safe to leave their abuser, even though being in the hands of the abuser was the least safe place for them to be. They had to feel like they deserved something better. That was the crux of it, and that’s what McCoy was trying to do with Jim - make him realize he deserved better, in every way.

“Bones? _Bones_. Did you just fall asleep with your eyes open?” Jim asked, suddenly only inches away from his face, jolting McCoy out of his ruminant thoughts.

He shook his head. “I’m awake, you child. Let me go put on some real clothes and then we’ll head out.”

Later, as they headed down the hallway towards the parking garage, a thought occurred to McCoy.

“Hey Jim, did you mention to Nero what we were doing today? I know he’s going out of town for a conference, but have you talked to him?” He asked.

Usually they would either meet up on the roof or at the café, sometimes incidentally and sometimes planned, but they’d never gone out somewhere together in public during the day. Anyone who saw them would just correctly assume they were two friends spending time together, but McCoy was concerned that if Nero happened to catch them, Jim would be in trouble.

Jim didn’t seem nearly as worried.

“Nah, he actually left earlier this morning for Tallahassee. He’s going to be there for the next few days. Why would I bother him with the small stuff?”

The glint in Jim’s eye told McCoy exactly what he truly thought of the ‘small stuff.’

* * *

“Bones! Bones, look! This is an SBD Dauntless dive bomber! Is this not the coolest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Jim’s toothy smile could thaw the Grinch’s heart, McCoy thought to himself as he was pulled through the San Diego Air and Space Museum, Jim eagerly tugging on his arm like a kindergartner.

McCoy was happy to just let Jim jabber his way through the museum, excitedly spewing out the history of the Apollo IX Command Module and working himself up into a fit when he saw a large World War II era aircraft surrounded by infographics and display boards.

“…This airplane was so pivotal on the Pacific front. See, this is an SBD-4, it actually was at the bottom of lake Michigan for fifty years. _Fifty years_ , Bones! She’s such a beauty, you can’t even tell. It was designed by Ed Heinemann, who actually also designed the A4 Skyhawk, but those were moreso in the Vietnam War…”

At the end of their self-guided tour they found themselves in the gift shop. Normally McCoy would’ve quickly bypassed this part of any museum and made a b-line for the exit, but Jim was quickly distracted by a large shelf full of model spaceships. He knelt down to the clearance section on the bottom row, pulling a box off the shelf that contained a model of the Space Shuttle Enterprise.

As he stood back up, holding the box, he shrugged a little to McCoy, “It’s marked half off.”

 _You don’t have to justify anything to me_ , McCoy would have said if Jim hadn’t gone speed-walking away to the check-out lane.

Later that evening they sat on McCoy’s living room floor eating take-out from styrofoam boxes stacked on his magazine table and trying to decipher the overly-complicated directions that came with the model.

“I’m telling you, Jim,” McCoy said as he pointed to the picture on the box, his fingers sticky with modeling glue. “Part Q goes on the left side, part R is on the right.”

Jim huffed in frustration. “But then why does the illustration have part Q on the right side? I mean, it looks like Q – I don’t know….ugh.” Jim punctuated his last thought by dropping his head onto the magazine table face first.

“And we’re out of glue.” McCoy chuckled and pulled Jim’s head off the table, moving over to the couch. “Let’s take a break from the model. Eat your Thai and let’s watch something on TV.”

Jim grumbled his agreement and maneuvered himself up off the carpet only to flop back down onto the couch next to the other man. A marathon of Cosmos happened to be playing, which McCoy thought was appropriate considering how they spent the morning. He settled back and scraped the bottom of his container of green curry.

After about the fourth episode, Jim seemed to be slowly dissolving into the couch, sinking down and into the cushions until his head fell to rest against McCoy’s shoulder. He looked down at the blonde head of hair, leaning forward a bit to see Jim’s eyes closed and confirm that the younger man was completely sacked out. Gently slipping from Jim’s side, he lowered Jim’s head onto one of the pillows and fetched a thick blanket to drape over the sleeping man before retiring to his own bed.

The next morning he found an empty couch and a folded blanket with a note sitting by the unfinished shuttle model.

_Bones, To be continued! :-), Jim_

* * *

 

The next evening, true to his word, Jim showed up at McCoy’s door with a new tube of model glue in hand.

They spent the evening watching the Batman trilogy and scarfing down incredible amounts of lasagna and breadsticks that McCoy had made. The model lay on the magazine table, barely closer to completion that it had been the previous day, and the two men sat huddled next to each other on the couch. 

“You merely adopted the darkness.” Jim mocked as he held his hands over his mouth like a mask in an impression of the villain Bane that was really more Sean Connery than Tom Hardy.

It was so incredibly dumb that McCoy couldn’t help but laugh. Unfortunately, Jim’s hands had been covered in marinara from the breadsticks he’d been devouring earlier and his face was now lightly smeared with sauce. He reached out for some napkins, rubbing them across his face like the messy infant he was truly was. He’d missed a spot, and without thinking McCoy leaned closer to thumb off the last residue of sauce from Jim’s bottom lip.

Well, that had been the intent.

What actually happened was that his thumb, once in contact with the soft flesh, stayed there longer that was strictly considered appropriate by society's standards. He ran the rest of his fingers down the side of Jim’s face, the younger man staring at him with wide eyes but his body unconsciously leaning forward. Without thinking, they met somewhere in the middle in a crash of lips and bodies. Jim’s hands tugged him forward, one hand cupping the back of McCoy’s head to run through his dark hair while his teeth bit gently on the older man’s lower lip.

McCoy’s brain was spinning with the sudden rush of sensations and the heat of blood rushing right to his groin. He pulled Jim’s chest closer to him, feeling the body heat from the younger man radiating through his t-shirt. He lips traveled down Jim’s lightly stubbled cheek, sucking and nibbling at the juncture of his ear and neck, drawing out a deep groan from the other man whose hand clenched tight in McCoy's hair.

McCoy pushed down with his left foot on the floor to gain the momentum he needed to roll them both flat onto the couch. Jim breathed heavily underneath him, hands creeping up the back of McCoy’s shirt to feel the warm skin underneath. He pulled the older man closer to him, inadvertently pushing McCoy’s growing erection against his hip, grinning cheekily at the accompanying moan that reverberated through the dark-haired man. McCoy’s own hands were busy cupping the round flesh of Jim’s ass through his jeans, encouraging those long legs to open up for him so he could slide between.

They were both startled by Jim’s cell phone ringing. Jim went rigid underneath him. “Stop, Bones, stop.”

McCoy pulled pack immediately, giving Jim space and looking at him searchingly. “You okay? Did I do something wrong – we going too fast?”

Jim’s face was bright red with embarrassment as he held the unanswered ringing phone in his hand. “I’m so sorry, man. I really fucked this up, didn’t I?” 

McCoy’s brow furrowed. “What are you talkin’ about?”

Jim grimaced and then pushed the ‘talk’ button on his phone. “Hey, Nero, back in town aready?” He greeted.

It was the worst third wheel experience of McCoy’s life, sitting there on his couch with a flagging erection while the man he now realized he was in love with was on the phone with his own boyfriend making dinner plans.

Some real rom-com shit, right?

The conversation was brief between Jim and Nero, as they always seemed to be, and soon Jim was searching around the table for his key-chain and wallet. McCoy put up a hand to stop him. “What _in the fuck_ was that?”

Jim sighed in frustration and stared at the ground, “You’re such a good guy, Bones. You’re unbelievable, actually. But…Nero. Okay, I’m many things, but I’m no cheater. I shouldn’t have let it go that far. I’m so sorry, Bones. I’m just really, really sorry.” He headed towards the door. “I’m gonna get out of your hair and leave now, okay?”

McCoy’s hand reached out for Jim’s before he could think better of it. “That’s it?”

Jim frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Nero just calls you up out of the blue, demands you show up for dinner, to just drop your own plans and go be his pretty little date for the night? Do you really think he’d do the same thing for you?”

Jim turned around to face him, anger blazing in his eyes, arms flying out from his sides. “I don’t have any other _choice_ , Bones. Fuck, we’ve been through this. Do you have any idea how bad it would be if I told him what I really want to say? To tell him to go shove that 4-star restaurant up his ass? I know better than that. It’s just...it's complicated.”

McCoy’s lips thinned into a grim scowl. “Well I strongly recommend you _un_ complicate it and start to realize who’s really on your side, kid.”

Jim’s glare was icy as he headed back to the door.

“Jim, wait.”

“What?!”

McCoy forced himself to unfist his hand which had been clenched so tightly his nails had left little crescents in his palm, and reached for the small bowl of keys on the table near the door.

“If you need anything – and I mean anything at all – here’s the key to my place. I’ll be here. Even if you just need to crash on my couch. I’m going to help you as much as you’ll let me, Jim.”

Jim stared at the dangling metal key in McCoy’s hand, face softening. He hesitated for a few moments, but ultimately reached out a hand to take the key from the other man. When he lifted his eyes up to meet McCoy’s, they were wet. Jim clutched the key in his hand, nodding at McCoy and walking out the door.

He didn’t see Jim for three days after that. The model on the table sat unfinished. Nero’s smug expression and the smell of Jim’s cologne on him was the closest McCoy got to the other man.

“I must admit, some of Jim’s reasons for continuing in this relationship are valid.” Dr. Spock said, seated at the small table in the on-call room of the Hospital.

McCoy glared at the other physician, upset at not hearing what he had wanted to hear. He turned instead to Dr. Uhura to get her opinion.

She took a moment to consider and said, “Len, if Jim doesn’t feel comfortable making the report himself, then you’ll just have to do it.”

McCoy shook his head. “Jim already said that as long as there’s any threat to my career he won’t cooperate with a police report. He knows what Nero can do to me.”

Uhura suddenly looked thoughtful. “Well yes, that was true when Dr. Marcus was the head of the Residency Program. Everyone knows Nero practically licks his boots. But Dr. Marcus resigned last month, his replacement started two weeks ago.”

“Yes, Dr. Pike.” Spock added. “He comes highly recommended from New York University’s School of Medicine. I have quite high expectations for him.”

Uhura nodded and turned back to McCoy, “The only reason Nero got away with most of the stuff he pulled here is because Marcus would cover for him. But now Pike is in the driver’s seat. You said Nero was going to smear your name and accuse you of alcoholism, and say that you gave substandard care? Go to Pike, explain the situation before Nero can give him any false information, and there you go. You’ll get placed with a different Attending and your name stays clean.”

McCoy had met Dr. Pike on the older man’s first day earlier that month. He seemed genuine and driven, seemed like someone who would be fair but firm. McCoy couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

Uhura looked at him expectantly. “Go now. It’s a slow day, Len. Nip this in the bud.”

* * *

 

That evening McCoy arrived back to his apartment with a million thoughts coursing through his brain. He’d met with Pike and, as expected, the senior physician had listened intently to his story and his grievances.

“You realize that you’re making some serious accusations, Dr. McCoy? We’re talking about physical and mental abuse to a partner, and direct threats to yourself. This isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

“I understand all of that, Sir, but I’m fully aware of what I’m saying.”

Pike had nodded, “And you realize that I will have to match you with a different Attending physician?”

McCoy couldn’t hold back a smirk, “I would welcome that, Sir.”

Pike had explained that ultimately a police report would still need to be filed by the victim, and that the best chances of getting Nero locked up would be for the complaint to come directly with cooperation from Jim himself. However, Pike assured McCoy that his status as a resident physician was protected and that the complaints against Nero would be dealt with.

Unlike most of the hospital bureaucrats, McCoy thought he might be able to actually tolerate Dr. Pike.  

* * *

 

After two years of working under Dr. Nero Romul, McCoy’s new attending physician, Dr. M’Benga, was like a spring rain for a desert. He was fiercely intelligent, reasonable, and truly loved to teach. While Nero was skilled at procedures, he was notoriously short with the patients themselves, lacking any discernible sense of bedside manner. Dr. M’Benga was kind, good at assuring nervous patients about their upcoming tests and explaining in layman’s terms the various courses of treatment.

Time flew by under Dr. M’Benga’s tutelage. 

Though the identity of the person filing the official complaint against Nero had been kept secret, Nero would have had no difficulty figuring out that it was McCoy. He was just worried that Nero was taking it out on Jim. Three weeks passed in a blur and he realized that he’d only seen Jim once in that time, stargazing on the roof as always. The younger man never seemed to be home when McCoy knocked and his familiar baritone voice hadn’t been heard singing through the thin plaster walls in weeks.

McCoy himself had heard blissfully little from Nero. The man coldly brushed by him in the halls, occasionally making a snide comment about smelling bourbon on McCoy’s breath, but thankfully most of the staff in the hospital knew better than to take Nero’s words as truth anymore. All McCoy had to do was lie in wait and let Nero damn himself.

Fortunately for McCoy, he didn’t have to wait long.

He’d been heading out of the hospital towards the parking lot when he realized that he’d forgotten his jacket in the locker room. Shouldering open the door, he thought nothing of the noises coming from a dark corner of the locker room. Well, at least until he found himself seeing far more of Nero than he ever wanted to, bent above someone and crudely fucking them over a low bench. In the dimness of the deserted locker room he could just barely make out a blonde head underneath Nero, and McCoy’s face flushed with a potent mix of shame and jealousy as he watched Nero’s hips snapping hard into the body underneath him, groaning out “take it, you slut.”

The answering moan was decidedly female.

McCoy choked out a breath in shock. Nero looked over, surprised, and the woman underneath him mirrored the action, turning to the intruder with wide eyes. McCoy vaguely recognized her as one of the Physical Therapy staff.

“Do you…uh…need help, Miss?” McCoy was tongue tied, unsure exactly how to handle this situation.

The woman looked at him like he was a special kind of stupid. She turned her head to look up at Nero, “Is he some kind of security guard? Or like, a pervert?”

McCoy sputtered and pointed at Nero. “ _I’m_ the pervert? This asshole is cheating on his boyfriend right now!”

The woman, understandably, seemed to grow more uncomfortable with every passing second. She reached out to her left and quickly covered herself with a towel.

“Get out of here, _pervert!_ ” She yelled, grabbing a nearby shoe and lobbing it at McCoy.

Satisfied that the woman wasn’t in actual danger or being held against her will, McCoy decided the best action would be to get the hell out of dodge.

As he left he heard the woman’s feet stomping angrily towards the door, directing her ire to Nero, “…and what did he mean, that _you have a boyfriend?!_ ”

* * *

McCoy knocked on Jim’s door with no answer.

His concern had finally reached a breaking point about four weeks after the couch incident. He’d been trying to get ahold of Jim, but realized that Jim had never actually given him his cell phone number. 

In the end, Jim came to him.

McCoy had just come off of a swing shift. By a normal person’s perception of time, it would’ve been late afternoon. To McCoy, it was bed time. He opened the front door and threw his wallet and keychain onto the counter. The loud tinny rattling of his keychain was immediately followed by an annoyed groan.

A groan that did not come from McCoy.

The doctor whirled around, picking up the nearest object that could be used for self-defense and turned to the living room, flipping the light switch and ready to face the trespasser.

When the overhead light flared on, he saw Jim blinking up at him from the couch, grasping a fifth of vodka and clearly still drunk.

“B’uns, wha d’you have a textbook for, don’ you already know ev’rything?” Jim slurred.

McCoy quickly deposited his massive Cecil’s Internal Medicine textbook back on the countertop with a thunk.

“Forgive me for not having a baseball bat or a knife handy.” McCoy griped as he neared the other man.

Jim appeared to have already gone back to sleep. First things first, McCoy set about checking the other man over, noting with displeasure the signs of a recent fight. Jim’s knuckles were scabbed over and his lip had been split at some point in the past few days. Satisfied that there was nothing that needed immediate medical attention, he then pried the vodka from Jim’s hands, resolutely pouring it down the sink.

With nothing much else to do, he grabbed a blanket and draped it over Jim and set on the floor by the couch, carding his fingers through the younger man’s hair.

“S’ry for crashing on you Bones. Didn’t wanna be alone. I’m not really sure this is whatcha meant when you gave me that key.” Jim said, eyes still closed.

“This is _exactly_ what I meant when I gave you the key. I just want to help you.” McCoy said. “Let me help.” 

A while passed before Jim opened up one sobering eye. “I feel like a cliché, Bones - like something in a psych textbook. See, my Mom married an asshole. He’d hit her sometimes, only once in a while. She’d hit him back just as hard, of course.” Jim gave a weak snort, “That must’ve been where I learned it.”

“What?” McCoy asked, “How to hit back?”

Jim shook his head, “No. To expect that the people you love are gonna hurt you.” He cleared his throat, “My step-Dad was a mean son of a bitch. I got out of that house right after high school graduation and headed straight for San Diego. I met Nero like two months later. I guess...I learned to expect that love equaled pain, to get one you had to have the other. That's just what a relationship was and I didn't know any better. Mom and my Step-Dad proved it, Nero proved it.”Jim paused, looking directly at McCoy. “But it doesn’t hurt, being around you. It feels…nice. Safe, I guess.”

Jim turned onto his back to face the ceiling and continued, “There were fingernail marks on his back that I didn't put there. I couldn't have put them there 'cause we haven’t had sex in weeks. That prick is cheating on me.”

McCoy laughed bitterly. “Of all the shit he’s done to you… _cheating_ is what’s finally going to push you over the edge? Leave his dumb ass, Jim. Live with me, here. The new director at the hospital has me covered against whatever slander Nero could throw out against me, so don’t you worry about me. You’ve got bruises, so let’s go, let’s file a report.”

Jim stared at him, eyes wide and mouth falling open just a bit. “You’d let me stay here?” He asked cautiously.

McCoy nodded firmly. “Of course, Jim.”

“Obviously I’ll pay half or even more of the rent. I’m not a freeloader.” Jim said defensively.

“You’ll pay whatever you can afford, that’s fair. I make enough to pay for this place, Jim. Don’t worry about being even. In fact, you should put that money towards tuition, instead.”

Jim looked up at him hopefully, perching on one elbow. He shook his head. “You’re really too good to be true. I’m paying half the rent, period.”

McCoy held up his hands in truce. “So you’re going to leave him?”

Jim sighed, “Well, I don’t think he’s giving me any good reasons to stay. So screw him. And you’re _sure_ that he can’t come after you?”

McCoy nodded again, “Yep. The new director at work is a good guy. I told him about Nero’s comments and threats. He says that it’ll all be taken care of, especially if,” McCoy looked pointedly at Jim, “there’s a police report against Nero.”

Jim frowned. “It’s already kind of late today and you worked all morning, can we go first thing tomorrow?”

McCoy decided to take his victories where he could get them. “Sure kid. You’re still half-drunk right now anyway.”

“I’m not half-drunk. Maybe _quarter_ -drunk, at most.” Jim said, making a stink face and heaving himself off the couch, “I’ll walk in a straight line, watch me.”

McCoy chuckled and gently pushed Jim back onto the couch and shoved a blanket at him. “You’re going to go sit on this couch until you can blow a 0.02 in the breathilizer.”

Jim shook his head, “You really own a breathilizer?”

McCoy smirked, “A holdover from my younger days. Now sit and watch TV, read a book, do whatever.”

The younger man reached over the magazine table, picking up the unfinished model of the Space Shuttle Enterprise. He gently cleaned dust off of the neglected pieces.

“Sorry, Bones,” Jim frowned. “For leaving you high and dry for the last few weeks. He was just really intense after he got back from that conference. I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

McCoy sat down beside Jim on the couch and draped an arm over the blonde’s shoulders. “You had good reason, Jim. Just please, don’t shut me out again.”

Jim nodded, picking up his cell phone and gesturing to it. “So, I know that break-up texts are pretty shitty, but do you think I can get away with one, considering the circumstances?”

“I think the _best_ that bastard deserves is a break-up text.” McCoy grumbled. He was actually more comfortable with a text in this setting, so that Jim could be spared from hearing Nero’s voice.

Later, after much deliberating and backspacing, Jim pushed ‘send’ on the final message and put his phone off to the side.

“A break-up text is too good for him.” McCoy continued ranting. “We should send him a break-up _nest of angry hornets_ , right on his doorstep.”

Jim’s cackling laughter was a balm on McCoy’s tense nerves. The younger man reached for the unfinished model shuttle, holding it up to McCoy as an offering and raising an eyebrow. McCoy nodded and helped Jim set up the remaining pieces of the mode. Hours later, after only minimal confusion and frustration, the two finally managed to put the finishing piece onto the model.

“Hey, Bones!” Jim nudged McCoy’s shoulder.

“Hm?”

“It looks clear out there tonight. Want to go to the rooftop and let this baby fly? I’ll go next door and grab my telescope.” 

“On your word, Captain.”

They chased each other up the stairs like children, cautious of Jim’s swinging telescope but both still managing to burst through the door to the rooftop with a bang. Happily, it was empty except for themselves. McCoy laid down the blanket he’d brought for them while Jim set up the tripod for the small telescope. With that task completed, Jim plucked the shuttle out of McCoy’s hand and held it up to the night sky, running around the rooftop and narrating the voyages of the Space Shuttle Enterprise.

“And there, on the ice-planet Troicus XII, the cunning, sexy Captain Kirk and his trusty First Officer McCoy encountered a hermit named Sulu who’d been abandoned by his previous crew and now lived in a cabin surrounded by his army of feral cats, bent on bloodthirsty revenge. Oh yeah, and the cats shoot lasers from their eyes, wahh!” Jim crowed as he made finger-guns at the shuttle and _pew pew_ noises.  

“That sounds like a terrible show.” McCoy griped. “No one would watch that. And besides, I’d be Doctor McCoy. Go find another First Officer.”

Jim shrugged, “There’s always Scotty.”

“You’re a child.” McCoy laughed, “You are an actual juvenile. Come back here, space cowboy.”

“Oh I’m comin’, alright.” Jim said with a leer as he turned towards the dark-haired man.

McCoy let himself be gently tackled back onto the blanket that he’d laid down earlier, allowing Jim’s weight to fall on top of him and rolling with it. Once they were flat, Jim straddled him at the waist and leaned over so that he was perched above McCoy.

“Leo.” Jim said.

McCoy frowned. “You’ve been calling me Bones for months, and now you finally want to call me by my real name?”

Jim shook his head and laughed as he took McCoy’s hand, pointing up to the sky. “Leo. Your constellation. It’s bright tonight, really beautiful.”

McCoy took a second or two to look at the configuration of stars before turning his head back up to Jim. The younger man was staring at him, still straddling McCoy's hips and leaning over him, with a smattering of stars illuminating the night sky behind Jim’s head, creating a background of stars. Jim's teeth glinted white in the ambient light of the rooftop. McCoy reached up, cupping the side of Jim’s face and running his thumb over a plush lip just like he did the first time.

McCoy said slowly, “s'not the only thing that’s beautiful.”

Jim smiled and leaned down so that he was resting his chest against McCoy’s. “Cheesy line, but it’s working,” He said, capturing the older man’s lips on his own.

McCoy tried to kiss back gently, keeping in mind Jim’s split lip, but Jim didn’t seem to be going for gentle. He kissed McCoy with a passion and fervor that rivaled only Jocelyn’s kisses on their wedding night. But even then, with Jocelyn, there’d been expectations and pressures. He found that kissing Jim wasn’t like that, it was completely careless in the best of ways. McCoy’s fingers worked of their own accord, quickly divesting Jim of his button down shirt and running reverently up and down his torso, mapping the firm lines of his tanned pecs and abdomen before palming at Jim's cock, eliciting a shudder from the other man. McCoy’s own torso was pale from lack of sun, but Jim still seemed very pleased with what he saw when he pulled McCoy’s shirt from over his head.

Jim scooted down McCoy’s body, kissing his sternum and licking at a nipple. He moaned encouragingly, especially as Jim's trajectory continued southward and soon his hands were working at the buttons of McCoy's jeans, sliding them off. Jim eased down the elastic band of McCoy's boxers, freeing McCoy's rapidly filling erection. Jim wasted no time running his tongue over the tip, strong hands either rubbing up and down McCoy's thighs or kneading his balls. Jim took the glans into his mouth and sucked gingerly, absolutely obscene as he looked up at McCoy with wet lips stretched around his aching cock. Jim's head continued bobbing up and down, feeling so good that McCoy had one hand clutching fistfuls of the blanket he laid on and the other grasping the back of Jim's neck, pushing himself further into that hot mouth.

"Kid!" McCoy gasped out, hips giving an involuntary hard thrust as Jim started to hum around his shaft, "It's been a while, ain't gonna last long if you keep that up."

A twinkle appeared in Jim's eye - which was a really unsettling sight for someone still actively with his cock in that smirking mouth. Jim pulled off of him with a wet pop and retraced his previous kisses up McCoy's torso, moving back to straddle him. He resumed sucking at the older man's neck, rubbing his own clothed hard-on against McCoy's naked hip, causing the older man to hiss as his sensitive cock was rubbed against the fabric of Jim's jeans.

"I just wanted to see what I was getting into," Jim said into his ear and then laughed as he corrected himself, "Well, really, I wanted to see what was getting into me."

McCoy reeled back, surprised. "You want to...really? Here?"

Jim looked nonchalant, nodding down to their two erections. "I mean, I could just go take care of this myself if you don't want to help me with it -"

Jim yelped as he was smoothly flipped over onto his back, McCoy pressed between his legs. "Where did you learn that move?!" Jim gaped.

McCoy shrugged, "All-state wrestling team in High school."

Jim grinned, "You'll have to teach me some more of those later."

"Later." McCoy agreed, "But for now, I've got other plans in mind."

He ran his hands up and down Jim's bare torso, committing every inch of golden skin to memory and sliding his flattened palms down into the waistband of Jim's jeans. The other man wriggled his hips flirtatiously as McCoy's steady fingers undid the buttons and loosened his pants before pulling them off. The boxers underneath were soon stripped away, too. McCoy rested himself flush against Jim, tentatively pushing his hips down against the equally hard man underneath him. Frotting was not meant to be done dry, however, and even though his aching cock was saying 'Go,' his sensitive skin was demanding some kind of slickness to ease the friction.

"Doubt we'll find any lube on -ungh- on the rooftop." McCoy grunted as he slowly rolled his hips against Jim's.

Jim grinned up at him, "Got you covered there, Romeo." He squirmed out from underneath McCoy, reaching over for his haphazardly thrown jeans and fishing out a condom and bottle of lube from the back pocket.

McCoy raised an incredulous eyebrow. "So that's _really_ why you went to your apartment, huh? You didn't go over there to get your telescope."

Jim shrugged and moved to curl up against the other man, "Eh, so maybe I had an ulterior motive."

"Strangely, I think I don't mind this time." McCoy said as he watched Jim unscrew the tiny lid on the bottle and pour the contents over his fingers, reaching down to McCoy's neglected cock to slather his length.

McCoy groaned into the night air as Jim's hand pumped him from root to head. Jim lined their cocks up against each other and ran his slick hand down both of their lengths, thrusting his hips up against McCoy's. Their lips met again, capturing each other's moans as they rutted into one another.

With his free hand, Jim took the bottle of lube and placed it in McCoy's palm, "C'mon, want you."

McCoy could find no reasonable argument against that as he liberally coated his fingers. He tilted his head down to lick at the shallow made by Jim's hipbone as he lay flat, occasionally kissing and sucking at the inside of his thigh. One hand settled at Jim's side and the other fondled at his balls before slipping down to push against his perineum. Jim jerked in surprise but then sighed appreciatively as McCoy's fingers continued to massage and explore, traveling closer and closer to his hole. Two slick fingers circled around his entrance, doing nothing but feeling him before one thick finger pushed inside.

McCoy abandoned his mouth's attentions to Jim's hip and felt himself drawn back to those full lips. He watched Jim's face as he sunk his finger in deep to the knuckle, running the digit against the younger man's inner walls, gently thrusting in and out as he sought the firm nub of Jim's prostate. When the man underneath him suddenly arched against him and moaned loudly, McCoy doubled his attention to that spot, pumping steadily against it and rubbing the pad of his finger against it in circles.

"Ok!" Jim gasped from underneath him as his legs unconsciously spread wider, "I take it back! Anatomy isn't boring. Anatomy is great!"

McCoy simply laughed before capturing Jim's lips against his once again, swallowing the breathy whines from the other man as he pushed another wet finger inside. He planted kisses across Jim's neck and sternum, down his abdomen and finally coming to rest at the leaking red tip of Jim's cock. He licked from base to tip in one long stripe, drawing a yelp out of Jim as he did so. He brought his lips back down onto Jim, fitting the head into his mouth and running his tongue around it as he rhythmically pumped two fingers in and out. Holding his breath, he pushed his lips down around Jim's shaft as deep as he could and worked a third finger inside. Jim was still too tight around his fingers, so McCoy distracted him by tonguing at the leaking head of Jim's cock as he scissored his fingers and worked the other man open. Jim's hips began thrusting into McCoy's mouth as the fingers inside of him slid in and out.

With a herculean effort, Jim pushed himself up onto his elbows and tossed the condom at the other man. "You better put that on and fuck me _now_." 

Jerkily nodding, McCoy took the condom in his wet fingers, slipping as he peeled it open. He rolled the latex over his cock and coated himself with lube before returning to lean over Jim. Looking down at the other man, he waited for a reassuring nod before pushing up Jim's knee to allow himself better access. He positioned himself at Jim's waiting hole, hesitating only a moment before pushing the tip of his cock inside. 

He tried to keep his eyes trained on Jim's face as he moved deeper into that incredible heat, greedily watching Jim's eyes flutter shut and his nose scrunch in pleasure.  Jim's body constricted tight around him in every way, even his hands clutched around McCoy's back and pulled him as close as possible. He worked his way inside slowly with short thrusts, drawing back when Jim would clench just a bit too hard around him and pumping deeper when the tight channel around him would relax. When he felt his balls hit against Jim's ass, when he could feel the other man wrapped around every inch he had to give, he finally let Jim's arms pull him in close as his head dropped against the hard pulse of Jim's neck.  

His hips started to move of their own accord, tender and deep at first, taking his time. But the warm body enveloping him was just too inviting to resist and with every thrust he pulled out deeper only to drive in harder. He paid special attention to the spot inside Jim that unfailingly made the other man moan and shake underneath him. He focused his thrusts on that sensitive nub inside and kissed Jim hard on the lips, swallowing the groans and cries into his own mouth.

He felt fingers digging into his shoulders and knew the younger man was close. He took his still-slick hand and wrapped it tightly around Jim's shaft, slotting it up and down in time to his own thrusts. Jim's body jerked underneath his.  

"Bones! _Bones_ , gonna -"

Jim cut himself off with a final groan as his eyes scrunched shut and his mouth fell open into an 'O.' His back arched as his body clamped intensely around the cock still driving into him. McCoy's final shred of willpower fell away and he pulled Jim down tightly by the hips, pumping himself in and out with a driving force. His knees complained loudly at him as he knelt on the hard floor of the rooftop, but he barely gave any thought to it as he looked down and saw Jim's half-lidded bleary eyes staring back up at him with a soft smile and eagerly taking everything McCoy could give him.

He wasn't too far behind Jim - after a few more rolls of his hips he felt himself getting closer to the peak, cock pumping erratically as he chased his orgasm over the edge. White lights flashed behind his eyes and he felt tingles pass through his body as his load erupted out of him. He pushed through it, hips rolling weakly as he felt the last sputter pulled from his cock. He collapsed down onto Jim's sweaty and heaving body, kissing and licking at his damp chest. They lay there for several minutes, hands roaming over each other and planting tired kisses. McCoy could feel himself softening inside Jim. 

"B'nes?" Jim's scratchy voice asked.  

McCoy grunted at him in response.  

"D'you realize you just made me come so hard that my ears are still ringing? Think you can do that again?"  

McCoy huffed out a low chuckle as he levered himself up onto his shaking arms and grasped his spent cock, pulling out of Jim's warm body as gently as he could. "Well, I guess we'll just have to have plenty of repeat demonstrations. Purely for scientific validity, y'see."  

"Anything in the name of science." Jim smiled mischievously up at him, eyes sparkling. 

McCoy brought his head down to meet Jim's once more, pushing his tongue past swollen lips. 

* * *

 

_Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump._

As he awoke, McCoy's brow furrowed at the sound of the steady heartbeat in his ear. Slowly, the pieces fell together as he began to notice the brightness of the room through his eyelids, the faint scent of Jim's cologne, and the strong arm draped around his back. Consciousness descended upon him and he remembered the previous night on the rooftop, making love under the dark sky until McCoy's knees finally protested loud enough for him to suggest that they take it back to the bedroom, where they then proceeded to make love under a different cover of darkness.  

He was content to lay there cushioned on Jim's chest and relishing in the steady lullaby of the other man's heartbeat. Several minutes passed before he could no longer ignore the aching in his bladder, so with a kiss planted against sandy blonde hair he extracted himself from the bed sheets and Jim's arms and sleepily shuffled into the bathroom. After addressing the most time-sensitive issue, he took a fresh towel from the hutch and cranked the shower faucet on. His mind kept replaying the events of the prior evening and to his embarrassment he could feel himself getting half-hard at just the idea that Jim was still waiting for him naked in his - _their_ \- bed. 

As if summoned, a loud rapping at the bathroom door shook McCoy out of his thoughts. He paused as he was about to step into the shower.  

Jim's voice carried through the wooden door. "Hey Bones, I'm gonna fry up some eggs. I hope you like scrambled because that's all I can do."  

McCoy snorted and said, "Sounds fine to me, kid. There's sausage patties in the fridge too, if you want some."  

"Hey now, don't want me getting paunchy." He could hear the smile in Jim's voice, but still, McCoy didn't like the words regardless of their inflection. 

"You're gonna eat whatever you want." He said firmly, but added, "Except bacon. None of that horrendous pig-fat in my home." 

Jim's laughter carried through the door, "Noted. My bacon days are over - as far as you know. Now get in the shower, you smelled like a locker room earlier." 

"Don't even get me started on your B.O., you brat." McCoy groused as he stepped under the flowing shower head, unable to stop the smile from creeping onto his face. 

He busied himself pouring shampoo and lathering it into his hair, taking his time to let the steaming water run over his back and shoulders. He watched the water rivulets run down his legs, over his toes and to the drain. He imagined it as some kind of cleansing, though he couldn't identify what he was ridding himself of. Whatever it was, he felt his shoulders drop as some of the long-held tension slowly melted out of him.

Several minutes must have passed and the water was nearly running cold before Jim was knocking at the door again. 

"Hey," Jim's voice carried over the sounds of the gushing water, "I already started the eggs, but you're out of milk. I'm gonna go over to my place and grab some."  

The tension crept back into his shoulders. "Jim, why don't you wait until I get out of the shower, we'll go together?"  

"Nah, man, take your time and finish your shower. If I wait too long the eggs are gonna burn. I'll be right back."  

McCoy heard Jim's heavy footsteps walking away and the sound of the front door closing, all too fast for him to come up with a non-paranoid sounding excuse for why he didn't want Jim to go to his own apartment alone. The water continued to flow over him as he reasoned with himself that he couldn't police Jim, couldn't escort him everywhere or set parameters for him, or else he'd be no better than Nero.  

A harsh bang against the wall jarred him. The wall that his apartment shared with Jim's. 

" _Jim!_ " 

Without even consciously thinking about it, he cranked the faucet off and sped into his bedroom to grab the first set of clothes he could find. He quickly shrugged on a t-shirt while running to the front door. The door to Jim's apartment was ajar and as his feet carried him closer he could hear the dull thunk of a fist hitting flesh. He threw the door open just in time to see Jim duck away from Nero's swinging fist.  

There were books askew in the living room, pulled down from their shelves during the obvious struggle. The table next to Jim's sofa was cracked and leaning off-kilter on its three remaining legs, the fourth leg shattered on the ground. The two men were at each other's throats in a dizzying clash of fists and insults. 

"Bones?!" Jim turned his head in surprise at the sight of McCoy on the threshold.  

Nero took advantage of Jim's distraction and landed a solid haymaker to Jim's face, knocking him sideways into the wall head first and down to the floor in a heap. Nero's foot swung back as he prepared to land a kick at Jim's prone form. McCoy saw red as he ran at Nero with a roar, attempting to tackle the other man but missing as Nero side-stepped him at the last minute. He gave a painful huff of air as Nero's fist caught his gut in an undercut. 

"I warned you, Leonard. Stay away, I said. And did you fucking listen? Wait til the Board hears about all the shit I've got on you." Nero snarled at him as he rushed at McCoy. Nero's breath stank of alcohol.

McCoy struggled against the onslaught. The other man was built like like a tank and angry to match.

"Already been through this with the new Director," McCoy gasped out as he ducked yet another swinging fist. "They won't believe anything you try to slander me with."  

Nero snarled, "Well then you _still_ lose. Jim's going to see reason and be back in my bed by dinner. Who do you even think is paying for his freeloading ass to live in this place?! He _needs_ me." 

"Not anymore he doesn't." McCoy smiled viciously. "He's out from under your paw, you bastard, and you're going straight to prison for assault." 

Nero was suddenly in his face, pushing him back against the living room wall, fists flying in rage, "Not if the both of you are _dead._ " 

Nero landed another solid hit to McCoy's gut, doubling him over enough for Nero to clamp his hands around McCoy's neck and push all of his considerable weight onto the body of the other doctor. McCoy gasped as he felt his air cutting off. Through the cloudy haze beginning to cover his vision, McCoy stared in horror at the man in front of him. Those eyes, mere inches away from his own, were filled with nothing but wrath and evil. He felt goosebumps prickle on his arms as the full understanding hit him, the knowledge of what kind of sociopath he and Jim had gotten involved with.  

Nero leaned in ever closer, until his lips were just next to McCoy's left ear. "I'm going to choke the life out of you." He snarled. "I'm going to watch the light leave your eyes. After that, I'm going to hold Kirk down right here where he can see your body, and he'll finally know with utter certainty that he belongs to  _me_." Nero's hands clenched tighter still and McCoy couldn't even let out any air to gasp. Nero sneered, "And then maybe I'll get rid of him, too. He was getting a little used-up anyway."  

Nero's threat brought out what little struggle McCoy had left in his oxygen starved body, but his effort produced nothing more than weak squirming as blackness began to crowd his vision. 

"Get your hands off of him, you son of a bitch!" 

Nero never saw the hit coming as Jim attacked him from behind, heaving part of the broken table leg right into Nero's temple and dropping him with one mighty swing. McCoy gulped in a huge breath of air hungrily as Nero's limp hands fell away from his neck, but soon he too was falling to the floor on trembling legs. 

McCoy watched with wheezing breaths as Jim landed punch after punch to Nero's rapidly bloodying face. Jim wasn't stopping and Nero wasn't moving.  

"Kid." McCoy rasped out. 

Jim struck another blow.  

"Jim!" 

Yet another thud of a fist. 

"Darlin', stop. _Stop._ " McCoy pulled himself over to Jim, grasping Jim's balled hand in his own shaking fingers. 

Jim angrily wiped at his eyes. "He was gonna kill you, Bones. Why shouldn't I wipe him off the face of the planet right now?" 

McCoy reached out and wiped away the welling tears from Jim's eyes. "Because you're better than that. You are better than him." 

After a long pause, Jim nodded and lurched off of Nero, landing one final kick to the motionless man's abdomen before turning his full attention to McCoy. He wrapped the still-gasping man into his arms and held him as tight as he dared, burying his face into McCoy's shoulder and whispering nonsense full of reassurances and promises into McCoy's ear. Three words were repeated over and over again that grabbed McCoy's attention. 

He brought his weak arms up to wrap around Jim's shoulders and his painful voice grated out, "Love you too, kid. Now call 911 and let me look at that cut on your head, you probably have a concu-" 

A squawk of surprise drew their attention to the open doorway where Scotty stood with an expression of both mild horror and pleasant surprise on his face.  

"Och! Ye finally gotten rid of that heidbanger! About damn time!" 

* * *

 

 _Five Years Later_  

McCoy was feeling claustrophobic in the crowded auditorium. They were packed together like sardines and the elbow of the man to his left was constantly invading his personal space.  

_"Mila Rose Jackson, MA. Summa cum laude."_

McCoy's knee tapped nervously. Someone who didn't know him would think he was simply being impatient. Those who did know him knew he was merely itching to get somewhere that wasn't stuffed with people all sweating into their neckties.  

 _"L. Mallory Jonicki, MS_ _."_

A firm hand clamped itself onto his jittering knee.

"Len," Janice whispered to him, "I know it's hotter than satan's ball sweat in here, but Jim's gonna be up soon, so don't flake out on me now."  

_"Simon Kachupudhi, MPAC. Cum laude."_

"Ah! Lenny! He's up next!" Gaila's excited arm flew from around Janice's back to smack on McCoy's shoulder excitedly.  

Uhura, who sat on Gaila's other side, gently shushed the redhead's excited squealing before leaning forward to catch McCoy's eye and giving him a proud smile.  McCoy looked at her and nodded back, a big grin taking over his face as he heard the speaker announce,

_"James T. Kirk, MS. Magna cum laude."_

McCoy's legs propelled him out of his seat, hands clapping together with ardor. The entire row of Jim's friends, who'd really become his family, also all stood up in a flurry of colorful applause, whistling, and even cat-calling. He watched Jim walk across the stage to accept his hard-won degree, shaking hands with the Provost and turning to face the crowd. Jim's searching eyes found their group easily, with all the noise, and his big smile was so bright that the sun would've been jealous. That was McCoy's personal favorite smile, the one where Jim's eyes would crinkle and his grin was nothing but white teeth. Jim held up the degree and nodded at the group before walking off stage to be seated with the rest of the graduates.  

Later, after all the names were read and the crowd was set free from the auditorium, they found themselves sitting at a long picnic table in Spock and Uhura's backyard underneath the cool shade of an oak tree.  

"So, Jimmy," Gaila said as she passed Sulu the chicken salad. "Do I have to start addressing letters to you and Len as 'Dr. and Dr.' now?"  

Jim rolled his eyes as he took a bite of melon, "Gaila, I haven't even started my PhD yet. Not gonna be Dr. Kirk for like three years, so I think you have time to adjust." 

"And when does this program start, Jim? You are continuing your studies in aerospace engineering, I understand?" Spock said conversationally as he poured himself a cup of unsweetened tea from a pitcher.  

Jim nodded, "Yep, still engineering. It starts July 12, so I have a little time off. Bones and I are planning a road trip up the coast while I'm on summer break, you know, head all the way up the coast to Eureka. The first stop is L.A. We're going to the Palomar observatory. I haven't actually been there, which is crazy, but Bones is being a good sport about it and letting me go run wild." 

McCoy shrugged awkwardly, "You wanted to go, and Heaven help me but it actually does sound interesting, so we're going." 

Jim smiled at him and laced their hands together underneath the picnic table, settling them on McCoy's leg. 

"And then!" Jim continued, "We're spending a few night in San Francisco. Gonna see Alcatraz, Lombard Avenue, go skydiving...what else, Bones?" 

McCoy crooked a disbelieving eyebrow, "Did I agree to go skydiving with you?" 

Jim smacked his lips around a piece of melon and grinned cheekily, "Yeah. You promised. Maybe you just don't remember because you were otherwise occupied." 

McCoy rolled his eyes and blushed slightly, "Smart ass. Promises I make when you're blowing me don't count, Jim." 

Sulu stared down at his plate as if he had eaten something sour and Uhura groaned in disgust. "Please never talk about blowing each other in front of me again." 

Jim just cackled and continued eagerly describing the itinerary he'd set up with Bones for their road trip. The rest of the group feigned surprise as if they each didn't already know all the details of the road trip. Well, Jim didn't know that everyone knew all the details, particularly because everyone at the table had played a major role in helping McCoy plan the trip out to the last detail, for a very particular reason - which Jim also didn't know about. Yet. 

After the food was eaten and the table was cleaned, the guests started saying their goodbyes. Spock and Nyota had to turn in early. Nyota was now an Attending and was taking on a new resident the next day, some former child-genius from Russia who had graduated med school at age 19. Scotty and Gaila were heading back into town to check on the diner before closing it up for the night. Sulu had disappeared off somewhere with Janice, who looked entirely too pleased with herself. 

Jim and McCoy held hands as they walked down the sandy dirt pathway to where they'd parked the car. Jim was still babbling happily about hiking in the Mendocino National Forest and was gesturing with his mortarboard in one hand and the orange graduate hood slung over his shoulder. McCoy stared at him as they walked.

He thought about how far they'd come, thought about how five years prior Jim was just his neighbor in a shitty relationship and so much potential but no faith  to tap into it.

He thought about himself and how directionless he had been, only knowing to steer away from the bottle and Georgia and failed marriages.

He thought about how Jim had given him a purpose - a direction.

He thought about the box with the ring inside it, tucked away in his suitcase back at their house. He wasn't afraid of the future. With Jim there, he wasn't afraid. 

Turning sharply on his heel, he brought Jim in close, hands holding tightly onto the other man's waist as his lips met Jim's melon-sticky mouth. He could feel Jim's stubbly beard scratching his face but he didn't care too much, not with Jim leaning into the kiss and pushing his body flush against McCoy's, a happy moan escaping from his open lips. 

"Trying to shut me up?" Jim laughed. "It's okay, I won't actually make you go sky diving with me if you don't want to." 

McCoy spoke slowly, "Kid, you should know by now that anywhere you go, I'm gonna be right alongside you. As long as you want me." 

"I always want you there with me, whatever we're doing." Jim assured, before raising a questioning eyebrow. "You'd follow me? Even if I jump out of a plane?"  

McCoy shook his head and sighed helplessly, drawing Jim even closer to him. " _Even if_ you jump out of a perfectly good airplane."  


End file.
